


It's A Devil's Deal

by DesertLily



Series: A Better World [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassin's Creed Fusion, Assassin!Medda, Brotherhood of Assassins, Canon Era, Gen, No Dialogue, Pre-Canon, Spot being lowkey gay for Race and Davey, jack and spot are brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23222251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertLily/pseuds/DesertLily
Summary: Hide in the darkness to protect the light. It was something that had been drilled into Spot Conlon  for his entire life. Follow the Creed. Blend in. It was why he had become a newsies; it was why working as a child was the perfect cover for helping take down New York’s most corrupt officials.
Series: A Better World [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669672
Kudos: 13





	It's A Devil's Deal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Orolly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orolly/gifts).



> The first piece in a series of one shots based extremely loosely on Assassin's Creed- particularly AC: Syndicate. Also a gift fic for a friend!

As far back as he could remember, Spot had been part of the Brotherhood. His parents had been a part of it before he had lost them. The Brotherhood of Assassins had raised him; had become his family. Even if they hadn’t raised him with the intentions of indoctrinating him, he had been raised knowing the truth of society. It was an endless wheel that spun on a loop; crashing down on society’s most vulnerable as it elevated the elite. The New York Brotherhood’s role was to break that wheel and Spot wanted to help in any way he could. They all did. 

But Spot Conlon wasn’t a killer. Not  _ yet _ , at least. He was sixteen. He also wasn’t the only one who wanted to make a difference. That brought him to Jack Kelly. Born as Francis Sullivan to Templar parents, Jack had been raised by the Brotherhood after the  _ accidental _ death of his parents when he was a baby. For a long time, he had been the closest thing Spot had to a brother. Unfortunately, that had inspired a healthy rivalry between the two. Sure, they cared about each other, but they were also constantly trying to one-up each other. That was why they had both jumped at the opportunity that had been thrown to them; like fish hooked on bait. They had been thirteen and fourteen, respectfully when Medda had suggested they become newsboys. It was a chance to start to influence change without all the dangers that came with the life of an assassin. So obviously, the two of them had said yes. Jack had ended up in Manhattan whilst Spot had the honour of being given Brooklyn. It hadn’t taken long for them both to rise through the newsies equivalent of a hierarchy; Jack using his charm, and Spot using his practicality. Before they knew it, Jack Kelly was the leader of Manhattan whilst Spot Conlon had been dubbed ‘King of Brooklyn’. He still really wasn’t sure what he thought of that title. 

One of the benefits of being a newsie were the people it brought with it. Dozens of ‘siblings’ Spot hadn’t expected to gain; more reasons to keep fighting against tyranny. He cared about each and every one of them - even if he did constantly attempt to come across as calm, collected, and somewhat impassive. He may not have been as open with expressing himself as Jack tended to be but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. But Jack Kelly...Jack Kelly was another story entirely. He was always so open with his newsies in a way Spot never even dared to be. Hell, Spot knew the real reason for Racetrack being sent to sell in Brooklyn wasn’t for their gambling problem; it was for Jack to keep an eye on his ‘little brother’. Not that Spot was entirely complaining about Race’s presence in Brooklyn. In fact, he would probably say it was one of Jack’s best decisions. Internally, of course. He would never admit it out loud. He wouldn’t give Jack that satisfaction. 

But there were downsides to being a newsboy. One of the most notable ones being the news itself. It wasn’t surprising that the owners of a majority of the city’s newspapers were Templars. It made sense, really. What better way to control the people than through the press? Still, it pained Spot that he had to regularly sell their propaganda; he willingly handed out false truths and pushed opinions to the oblivious people of the city. It always left a foul taste in his mouth. How could it not?! Spot was being used as a tool to spread Templar propaganda and being entirely complicit in his efforts to do so. But it would be worth it in the long run. That was something he kept reminding himself. This would be worth it. This was the start of him making a difference. Change had to start somewhere, right? Even if it was from the bottom of the food chain. Still, it was better than nothing. It gave him the chance to influence the not-so-small group of newsies he now considered his family. Spot reminded them not to trust the reality behind the headlines; they only served as a business transaction - not as a reflection of the truth. Like most of history, the newspapers were written and influenced by whoever’s pockets ran the deepest. 

It was how the world worked. The rich robbed and manipulated the poor. It wasn’t treated like a crime. No, it was praised as it was given the name ‘capitalism’. That was why Spot hadn't been surprised when he saw the price of papers had been jacked up. Disappointed, sure, but not surprised. In all honesty, he was just surprised it had taken Pulitzer that long. Newsies were just poor kids desperate to make a penny. It wasn’t like anyone would bat an eye if they sold less or if they went hungry. At least, no one in the public eye did. It was always those working in the background; those who no one truly wanted to worry about or acknowledge. 

One such ‘background worker’ was Medda Larkin, both a vaudeville star and undercover assassin. Spot had never been as close to her as Jack was, but he respected her all the same. How could he not? He’d seen the way she looked out for the Manhattan newsies - whether it was occasionally slipping them a little bit of extra money or letting them hide out in her theatre whenever they needed somewhere to go, Medda always seemed to be there to help. Brooklyn didn’t have their own version of Medda. No, all they had was Spot and Spot was determined to be more than enough for them; to protect them. Even if his current attempts were to varying degrees of success. 

Then came the news of Jack’s supposed ‘strike’. At first, he had thought nothing of it. It seemed improbable - probably just some joke to try and stir up trouble between the boroughs. But then, sure as shit, there came Jack with some sort of walking mouth (who definitely wasn’t even remotely cute) stuck by his side. Jack strolled in as if he owned the place whilst his not-attractive friend followed them with slight caution. There was also a kid with them who seemed to be attempting to replicate Jack’s confidence. If Spot was someone else then he would probably find it endearing. But he was Spot Conlon, and Spot Conlon did not wear his heart on his sleeve. After hearing Jack and his friend (he would later learn his name was Davey) out on their dramatic ideas of a strike, he offered an ultimatum; Brooklyn would back them up if Manhattan proved they wouldn’t just flake at the first hurdle. 

It was after they were gone that Spot smiled to himself. Maybe change really was coming. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have mixed feelings about how this turned out. Love it? Hate it? Comments are always appreciated or hmu @ desert-lily on tumblr


End file.
